


i reach for you and you bring me home

by archetypically



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: (wishful thinking that is), F/M, it's christmas and i do what i want, post-infinity war etc, spontaneous proposals are my aesthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:11:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archetypically/pseuds/archetypically
Summary: But they’realive, you know, they’re alive and Thanos is dead, and — he doesn’t need telling twice, three times, that things don’t last forever and that you have to not take the people you love for granted while you have them. They’re alive, and the way her hair falls over her shoulders and the way that she smiles, just a little, when she glances at him out of the corner of her eye is so goddamn beautiful that it takes his breath away.So, quietly, it tumbles out before he really thinks about it, as words usually do with him: “Marry me.”Written for 12 Days of Starmora prompt #1 - tradition





	i reach for you and you bring me home

So he’s pretty sure that there are, like, specific traditions associated with something like this.

Not that he has a lot to go on from his own life here — just some stuff he saw on TV and in movies a really long time ago — but when you’re asking someone to marry you, it has to be special. Those people on TV and in the movies, you know, they’d put a lot of thought into it, come up with these sweeping, epic romantic gestures. There’d be rings and speeches and flowers, sometimes music if someone _really_ wanted to go all out, but the one thing this stuff all had in common was planning.

Regardless, he’s _definitely_ sure that it wasn’t supposed to just fall out of his mouth one completely mundane morning when Gamora’s still sitting next to him in bed while they’re discussing jobs.

But they’re _alive_ , you know, they’re alive and Thanos is dead, and — he doesn’t need telling twice, three times, that things don’t last forever and that you have to not take the people you love for granted while you have them. They’re alive, and the way her hair falls over her shoulders and the way that she smiles, just a little, when she glances at him out of the corner of her eye is so goddamn beautiful that it takes his breath away.

So, quietly, it tumbles out before he really thinks about it, as words usually do with him: “Marry me.”

She turns to look at him head on.

“What was that?”

Here’s the thing — even though he’d mumbled, he knows that there’s no way her enhanced hearing wouldn’t have detected every single word of that with perfect clarity. Which means… _shit_. There’s this one terrible second of sheer blind panic before he’s able to get his stupid vocal cords working again to scramble for something.

“Uh, nothing, that was —” Great job, great start. He drops his eyes, and starts fidgeting with the covers with his fingers. “Nothing. Nothing important, just, um, talking to myself. I do that sometimes, stupid stuff…”

“Peter.”

That’s the _tone_ , and the _tone_ tells him that there’s no amount of stalling that’s going to save him now. It’s time to take the proverbial plunge, he knows he can’t avoid this, so he lifts his eyes to meet hers again, and: “Will you —” He starts, then cuts himself off. This isn’t exactly something they’ve talked about a lot, because, frankly, there’s been a ton of other shit to deal with, so, like, he doesn’t really know where she stands. And what if she totally _hates_ the idea? Then he’s just introduced something stupid for no reason just because he can’t keep his own freaking mouth shut.

But she’s still looking at him with that piercing stare she’s _really_ good at, the kind that makes him wonder if she doesn’t have some kind of X-ray vision into his soul or something. And he — he inhales a long breath, and tries not to think about how, right now, he’s more nervous than he’s ever been in his whole freaking life. “Will you marry me?”

She’s been different, he’s noticed, in the weeks since they’d wiped out that asshole for good. Not in a way that’s not _Gamora_ , if you get what he’s saying, but — different. Like she’s had this massive weight lifted off of her shoulders, and like she can just breathe and _be_ a lot more easily now. And in this moment, there’s this unrestrained brightness in her eyes that he’s never seen before in all the time he’s known her, and he swears his heart, no joke, skips at least three beats. “Yes,” she tells him, grasping the hand that’s still fidgeting with one of hers. “I’ll marry you.”

It’s so stupid, but tears start forming in his eyes, and one of them must have fallen, because he feels the thumb of her free hand brushing against his cheek. He doesn’t really have time to dwell on this, though, because the next thing he knows, she’s captured his mouth with hers, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.

Screw tradition, he thinks. This is better than all of them combined.


End file.
